The room was dark and cold and smelt distinctively of mold, mildew and the all too familiar smell of rotting basement. Sherlock sat still on the bed, his ribs and shoulders still aching from being thrown onto the ground and into the boot of a small car where he had to squeeze his knees tight to his chest to make room for the rest of his body. He looked around, trying to deduce something, anything about where he was.
But the room was too dimly lit, the only source of light being the thin moon beam that leaked in through the small barred window and he was far too worn out to make out much of anything even if there were proper lighting. A bruisingly large man shoved his way into the room and with a grunt wandered over to where Sherlock was sitting, roughly grabbing his wrist and locking it into a pair of handcuffs, pulling it behind one of the bars of the metal headboard before clamping his other wrist in the other end of the handcuffs. Sherlock twisted himself to get more comfortable, his arms hanging above his head. He watched as the man lumbered back out of the room.
Sherlock looked down at himself, accessing if anything else was wrong with him. His coat was missing and he guessed that someone had taken it. He had a large rip in the knee of his right pant leg and a small cut that had stopped bleeding quite some time ago. His shirt was in near perfect condition aside from the large amount of dirt smeared across it.
The door opened and a small wiry man came in with a chair, setting it down several feet away from where Sherlock was seated on the bed. The man regarded Sherlock with a sly look before leaving out the door. Sherlock sat for what seemed like hours but he knew could only have been a couple minutes before a dark figure walked into the room, wearing what looked a lot like Sherlock's coat.
"This is a lovely coat you have Sherlock" came the sticky sweet drawl of an all too familiar voice. "It's a shame that you won't be needing it for some time" he said, sitting down in the chair in front of Sherlock, crossing his legs. "Though it is a bit drafty in here"
"What do you want Moriarty?" Sherlock asked, gritting his teeth.
"Oh not much" he said, examining his fingernails. "Just revenge"
"On who?"
"Your brother Sherlock dear, your brother" Sherlock let out a shaky laugh that slowly turned into a chuckle.
"And how are you going to do this, there isn't much my brother cares about" Moriarty laughed, leaning forward in the chair so he was in the small light beam that was coming in through the window.
"Quite right Sherlock but there is one thing he cares about more than he'd like to mention"
"And what's that?"
"You"
John paced back and forth in the den of 221b, running his hands nervously through his hair several times before sitting down in his arm chair only to get back up and repeat the process. It wasn't normal for Sherlock to have been gone this long, granted he'd been gone longer but he said he was heading over to Saint Bart's, he should have been back by now, at the very least he should have texted by now.
John checked his phone for the seventh time since the hour, still no messages from Sherlock. John rubbed his hands over his face, grabbing his coat and hailing a cab. When he reached Scotland Yard he threw some money at the cabbie and dashed in through the doors, bursting into Lestrade's office without so much as a hello to anyone in the offices.
"Sherlock's gone" John said breathlessly.
"And this is different from any other time because?"
"He said he was going to Saint Bart's" Lestrade raised an eyebrow, requesting a further explanation. John rolled his eyes, suddenly remembering that not everyone knew Sherlock the way he did. "He left this morning, and it's almost five, he's never gone this long without texting"
"Well maybe something's come up?" John shook his head.
"He would have texted me, or had Molly text me and I haven't heard anything all day"
"Maybe we should head over there" Lestrade said, standing up and shrugging on his coat. John nodded, following him out the door and into a cab.
Sherlock twisted in his handcuffs, the cold metal cutting into his wrists. His arms had since gone numb from being in the same position for several hours. The heavy metal door opened and Sherlock wasn't surprised to see Moriarty walk in with the larger man that had handcuffed him. The large man walked over to the bed, unlocking the cuffs from around Sherlock's wrist. The man grabbed Sherlock's legs, turning him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the chair.
A table was placed next to the chair and a small black box was placed on top of it. The large man walked over to the door, standing in front of it and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Miss me?" Moriarty asked, walking over to the table, his arms behind his back. "I brought some presents for you" and Sherlock was sure he meant whatever the black box contained. He sat down in the chair, placing his hands in-between his knees. "Now you should know that these are small presents and when you receive them I expect some sort of reaction" he turned to the box, unlatching the top and skimming over the items before picking one up. "This one is quite fun" Moriarty said, turning it around in his hands, the instrument look like a very cruel set of pliers.
"Open wide for daddy Sherlock dear" Sherlock clamped his mouth together, making a show of pulling his lips in. Moriarty sighed and motioned for the burly man by the door to come over. The man lumbered over from the door and stood next to Sherlock, placing his huge, calloused hands on either side of Sherlock's face.
"Break his jaw sir?" The man asked, his voice low and rumbly.
"No, no I need him to be able to talk" the man nodded, prying Sherlock's jaw open. "These are lovely teeth you have here Sherlock, which one do I want?", Sherlock watched, eyes wide with fear as Moriarty placed the pliers on one of his back molars, twisting and quickly pulling. Sherlock cried out, the sound strangled as Sherlock's mouth was still being held open. Blood poured from the tooth's former home, dripping down and off Sherlock's bottom lip.
"Now Sherlock dear this isn't all I want from you" Moriarty said, placing the piers on the table and nodding at the man. The brooding man let go of Sherlock's mouth, moving instead to hold his right hand out to Moriarty. Moriarty wiped his hands on a towel that was sitting on the table, before once again picking up the piers, placing them on the tip of Sherlock's middle finger nail. He pulled back quickly, yanking Sherlock's nail out all the while keeping eye contact. Sherlock shouted, and cursed, pain shooting up through his arm.
"Thank you" Moriarty said, picking up Sherlock's tooth and fingernail along with the black box and heading out the door, the man following behind, shutting the thick metal door behind himself.
"He never showed up" Molly said, filling out a sheet clipped onto her clip board.
"Are you sure you just didn't see him come in, maybe you missed him" John said, worry etched into his voice.
"No he never showed up"
"How could he have never showed up" John asked, Lestrade as they walked out of Bart's. Lestrade shrugged.
"I don't know John, maybe he got distracted or something" John stopped walking, looking up at Lestrade.
"Do you not even know him?"
Lestrade looked nervous but simply shrugged. "I can't fill out a missing persons report until he's been gone for forty eight hours"
John nodded, understanding the conditions.
"If he's not back by tomorrow night let me know" Lestrade said, clapping John on the shoulder and heading down the street in the opposite direction of John.
